I was sitting at the lobby of the Kinabalu-Hyatt hotel quietly sipping my last cup of Irish Coffee while reminiscing on memories of past events. It was about 11.00 o'clock. The music had stopped and only a few late-nighters were around. The year was 1991. I had just broken up with Phoebe (not her real name), my friend of eight years.
A week or so before, Phoebe had flown to Vancouver to get married to a guy whom she barely knew apart from the fact that he was introduced to her by her relatives. I felt completely remorseful, not that we had a bad parting. On the contrary, we had a romantic albeit a dramatic one. On the day of her departure I was to send her off at the Kota Kinabalu International Airport, after all we had agreed to remain as good friends. Unfortunately, I was caught up in a jam. By the time I reached the departure hall, the final boarding call was already made and I guessed she was already half way into the walkway bridge. This was a meeting of a kind that I could not miss or, " I would regret it for the rest of my life," I remember thinking. Being quite well known among the airport security officers, I made a frantic request to be allowed to see her for the last time, "at least at the doorway of the 747 carrier," I earnestly requested. The officer, quite sympathetic to my predicament, reluctantly permitted me. This was, of course, way before the Nine-Eleven episode. With the security officer tagging close behind me, I practically dashed across the departure hall into the bridge frantically calling out Phoebe's name. It crossed my mind that she might already be out of ear shot, and for a while I was quite resigned to the fact that I might not see her any more. It was a case of being 'so close yet so far'. A picture of me walking back towards the sunset drooping with utter disappointment conjured up in my mind. I was at the verge of giving up when suddenly, there before me was Phoebe in person, with her angelic smile and blurry eyes. A heartfelt, "thank you, Lord" ejaculated out of my heart as we embraced tightly. We exchanged sweet glances, savored the sight of each other and said our emotion-filled goodbyes. I knew that I would not be able to say all the things that I needed to say in that meeting, so I handed her a 12-page letter which I'd written earlier for her to read while airborne.
As we stared into each other's eyes an intense emotion engulfed me. If aura had color, we would perhaps be seen engulfed in intensely thick fire-red glow of love . But we must part. I was married and I was, church-wise, unavailable to her. I couldn't really blame her for having decided to go the way she did.
We were very aware that our world would instantly change the moment we stepped away from each other. We both knew that we could never be a family that we'd ever dreamed of, that there would never be a tomorrow for us together as we had envisaged . As she entered the plane and went out of view, the reality of our separation suddenly weighed on me. She was no longer a part of me as I had care-freely considered her to be not so long ago. I couldn't cry nor could I focus. I was just devastated.
A week or so before, Phoebe had flown to Vancouver to get married to a guy whom she barely knew apart from the fact that he was introduced to her by her relatives. I felt completely remorseful, not that we had a bad parting. On the contrary, we had a romantic albeit a dramatic one. On the day of her departure I was to send her off at the Kota Kinabalu International Airport, after all we had agreed to remain as good friends. Unfortunately, I was caught up in a jam. By the time I reached the departure hall, the final boarding call was already made and I guessed she was already half way into the walkway bridge. This was a meeting of a kind that I could not miss or, " I would regret it for the rest of my life," I remember thinking. Being quite well known among the airport security officers, I made a frantic request to be allowed to see her for the last time, "at least at the doorway of the 747 carrier," I earnestly requested. The officer, quite sympathetic to my predicament, reluctantly permitted me. This was, of course, way before the Nine-Eleven episode. With the security officer tagging close behind me, I practically dashed across the departure hall into the bridge frantically calling out Phoebe's name. It crossed my mind that she might already be out of ear shot, and for a while I was quite resigned to the fact that I might not see her any more. It was a case of being 'so close yet so far'. A picture of me walking back towards the sunset drooping with utter disappointment conjured up in my mind. I was at the verge of giving up when suddenly, there before me was Phoebe in person, with her angelic smile and blurry eyes. A heartfelt, "thank you, Lord" ejaculated out of my heart as we embraced tightly. We exchanged sweet glances, savored the sight of each other and said our emotion-filled goodbyes. I knew that I would not be able to say all the things that I needed to say in that meeting, so I handed her a 12-page letter which I'd written earlier for her to read while airborne.
As we stared into each other's eyes an intense emotion engulfed me. If aura had color, we would perhaps be seen engulfed in intensely thick fire-red glow of love . But we must part. I was married and I was, church-wise, unavailable to her. I couldn't really blame her for having decided to go the way she did.
We were very aware that our world would instantly change the moment we stepped away from each other. We both knew that we could never be a family that we'd ever dreamed of, that there would never be a tomorrow for us together as we had envisaged . As she entered the plane and went out of view, the reality of our separation suddenly weighed on me. She was no longer a part of me as I had care-freely considered her to be not so long ago. I couldn't cry nor could I focus. I was just devastated.
